The Last Dragonlord
by Lady Gallatea Ravenclaw
Summary: Dragonlords are men of myth that once shared souls with the dragons of old. Lost over time, those people have become a myth and only the awakening of a young Dragonlord will bring the time of dragons back to Britain. During GoF, HPXMerlin
1. Chapter 1, Tasks

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Merlin BBC or Harry Potter! Some of the lines in this chapter are from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, but only because I had to fit my story into some canon events. I only own some of the dragons and their names. :D You'll know which ones.

* * *

**The Last Dragonlord**

Chapter One: Tasks

Harry felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach when he first saw the Hungarian Horntail. Perspiration dotted his brow and his eyes were wide with fear. The beast was massive, covering the whole space of his vision and every inch of it was vicious.

The dragon, a she-dragon apparently, was standing protectively over a clutch of eggs, one of which was the gleaming-gold egg that was his prize. Harry stepped forward nervously, wetting his lips and swallowing roughly. His throat was unbearably dry, so swallowing just made him choke.

She must have heard his cough because in the next moment, her beady yellow eyes were gleaming and focused on him. If he hadn't locked his knees earlier, Harry knew he would be on the ground, quivering. She locked gazes with him and he stared right back.

Silence pressed around him. All he could hear was a thudding beat and feel the movements of his chest. Nothing mattered but matching the dragon's eyes with his own. Harry could have stood there forever, staring at her, but she broke the contact by twisting her head to the sky and roaring fire.

Even from his distance, Harry could feel the burning heat of the flames as they rocketed up in a swirl of yellow, orange and red. His legs shook and a jolt of fear ran through him once more. Remembering himself, Harry raised his wand, shaking slightly as the dragon looked at him again. Her eyes did not meet his this time and it allowed Harry the headspace to open his mouth, the Summoning Charm at his lips.

And then she attacked. Another stream of fire burst out of her mouth, her neck extending as if she was blowing a gust of wind. The fire came at him, screaming.

With a strangled yelp, Harry darted out of the way of the inferno coming straight at him. The dragon stopped that burst and turned her head to him to shoot another. Just before the flames escaped her mouth, Harry moved again. This time he looked back at the deadly fire, just to see it unfurl towards the closest stand of people.

Harry felt a burning deep within his belly that came out in a roaring, "NOO! Don't hurt them!"

The dragon's head snapped around so fast, Harry could have sworn that she got whiplash. Involuntarily, Harry felt himself stumble back as the dragon's gaze met his own. And then, she did something he never, ever expected.

"Did you just speak to me?" a loud and grating feminine voice asked. Somehow, he didn't know how, Harry knew that the dragon had just asked him that.

Harry nodded dumbly, staring straight at the dragon. Her gleaming bronze horns shone in the sunlight and her eyes looked through his very soul. "You – you can talk?"

"And so can you," she replied, bending her head down until it was closer to him. "You are speaking my tongue… how is this?"

Harry's body froze and he felt as if all the breath had been sucked out of him. "I have no idea," he murmured quietly, when his lips had unfrozen.

His mind was racing, memories of talking snakes and being ostracized as the presumed Heir of Slytherin flashing briefly through his head. His eyes flicked to the right and left. He was in the middle of an arena, standing in front of a quiet dragon, talking to it. And the timer was still going.

The task flashed in his mind and Harry's head whipped back to the dragon as he remembered. Finish the task and then figure out what the hell is going on. Right.

"Er, could I please get that golden egg from your nest? It isn't a real egg and I sort of need it to finish the task," Harry asked, pointing to the pile of eggs behind the dragon.

The Hungarian Horntail's long neck twisted around to gaze at her nest, examining the cement-colored eggs. She sniffed carefully at the golden egg and snorted out a cloud of ash. Between two long and deadly sharp claws, she pinched the egg and held it out for Harry. The young wizard took it, feeling the heaviness of the large egg in his arms.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully.

The dragon inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement before staring at him again. A silence stretched for a few seconds between them and would have gone on if not for the sudden cacophony of cheers that sounded from around them.

Harry jumped. He had again forgotten that he was surrounded by people and that he was even in this task. After looking around at the people, Harry sheepishly looked back at the dragon, clutching the egg as if it was a life line.

"I should probably go to the gate," Harry said reluctantly, seeing as how he would soon be herded out anyway.

"Very well, young warlock," the dragon said, drawing back to her full height. She gazed down at him imperiously. "But I have no doubt that we will meet again, Dragonlord."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "Sorry, what…?" he started to ask. But before he could complete his question or even hear an answer, hands grabbed him and pulled him out of the enclosure.

The hands, which belonged to McGonagall, hustled him out of the arena as dragon keepers surged past him towards the dragon. He vaguely heard people talking to him but it was if he was walking through a thick fog. His mind was on the dragon, the _talking_ dragon, and what she had called him before he left. _Dragonlord_.

Harry was steered to the hospital tent and pushed down onto a bed by Madam Pomfrey. He heard her usual muttering and complaining as she waved her wand over him. The teenager tuned her out, too familiar with her behavior. But when she began to apply a potions to his shoulder, where he didn't even have a scratch, Harry questioned her sanity.

"_Dragons_!" she exclaimed, "Last year Dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next?" Harry raised an eyebrow when she began talking about some sort of cut that he had on his shoulder. He eyed it speculatively but couldn't see a thing. What was going on?

"Now just sit quietly for a minute – _sit_! And then you can go and get your score," the nurse said just before leaving the tent. Yes, that's it. Pomfrey was insane.

Before he could go get help for the nurse who had clearly gone round the bend, Ron and Hermione tumbled inside. Immediately he was ambushed by a cloud of bushy brown hair as a vice-grip surrounded him. His female friend backed away, showing wide, red eyes and fingernail marks on her face.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" she exclaimed. "You were amazing! You really were!"

It was only then that Harry saw the red hair and white face of his other best friend. Ron, who hadn't spoken to him in months, stood there shame-faced and looked a bit sick.

"Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet – I – I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

Harry gave Ron a cold look. "Caught on, have you? Took you long enough." He let those words sink in, knowing that his friend needed to understand how much his betrayal had hurt. But when his best friend went to apologize, Harry knew Ron really meant it. "It's okay, forget it."

"No," said Ron, "I shouldn't've –"

"_Forget it_," he repeated, just wanting to let the argument fade into the past.

The two friends shared a smile and Hermione burst into tears, running off after hugging them both. Harry exchanged bewildered looks with Ron before going to receive his scores.

He had half-expected Ron and Hermione to comment on the whole talking-to-a-dragon thing but they hadn't. Harry had ignored that, thinking that they would just talk about it later, but then had noticed that no one else was staring at him or asking him questions. It was as if none of it had ever happened!

Harry was startled back into the present with Ron's chattering about the task. Apparently he'd missed the whole play-by-play of the other champions' trials. They watched as the judges gave his results and despite Karkaroff's biased score, Harry ended up in first place, tied with Krum.

Ron was very cheery and Harry couldn't help but smile with his friend. But an unsettling feeling still sat in his stomach. No one had _noticed_. It wasn't every day that a teenage wizard confronts a dragon and ends up talking it into handing an egg to him. He hadn't used magic or gotten hurt. Instead, everyone was acting like he had followed his original plan to summon his broom, fly and capture the egg. And they believed that he'd gotten hurt while doing it!

He needed to talk to Ron and Hermione.

* * *

It wasn't until the next day that Harry got a chance to speak with his friends, however, between the aftermath of the task and the party the Gryffindors threw that evening. But as soon as classes were over, he dragged the two of them to the library and found a secluded spot within the stacks.

"What's going on Harry?" Hermione pounced as they sat down.

Harry took a deep breath and plunged in. "Something odd is going on," he started earnestly, "and I know this sounds mad, but I think I talked to the dragon."

Hermione's brows were furrowed and Ron looked amused. "You're having us on, right mate?" the latter asked.

"No," Harry said flatly, "I talked to the dragon and she understood me. She even gave me the egg when I asked her for it!"

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. "What are you talking about, Harry?" Hermione asked carefully.

"I'm talking about the Hungarian Horntail picking up the golden egg with her claws and dropping it into my hands," Harry said slowly. "Please tell me that you saw that?"

"We didn't," Ron spoke up. "I was watching you the whole time and I _definitely_ didn't see that!"

Harry cursed mildly and rubbed his aching forehead. "Well that explains why no one was staring at me when I got out of there. What did you see?" Harry asked, looking at Ron wearily.

"I dunno," Ron mused for a second, frowning. "It all happened so quickly. One minute, you were standing there, facing the dragon and in the next, you had the egg!"

Hermione chewed her lip, thinking furiously as she spoke, "Come to think of it, Harry, I can't remember anything specific! It's like I was hit with a Confundus Charm!"

The bespectacled wizard ran a nervous hand through his untidy hair, almost knocking his glasses askew. "So I apparently just talked to a dragon for a good fifteen minutes in the middle of the first task … and no one else can remember it, but me?"

All three of them sighed and Harry accompanied the sound with a thunkas he hit his head on the table top.

"How is this possible?" Hermione asked rhetorically. The boys looked at her and she huffed. "Humans can't communicate with dragons, it's a fact! I found it while we were searching for a spell that would work for the task!"

Harry let his head fall to the desk again. "Apparently I just accomplished the impossible," he said, the words muffled by the table. "Again."

"Well, at least there is one good thing," Hermione offered weakly, once a silence fell uncomfortably on them.

"What's that, Hermione?" Harry groused, his voice muffled.

"No one thinks you're the Heir of Slytherin?" Ron piped up, grinning cheekily.

Harry glared balefully at him, his chin propped up on the desk still.

"Sort of," Hermione agreed hesitantly. "At least this way, _certain_ _people_ won't be able to tell _other people_ that you can speak to dragons."

"Hermione," Harry started, half-glaring, half-frowning at his other best friend, "what are you talking about?" Ron nodded, as if to agree with Harry.

The bushy-haired witch sighed, muttering about hopeless, thick-headed boys. "I mean," she said in a much-put-upon tone, "that, at least this way, Malfoy can't go off tattling to Rita Skeeter about you!"

Looks of comprehension dawned on both boys' faces. The group fell into a silence again, processing the information.

"There's more," Harry said quietly, as he remembered the last few things the dragon had said. "Just before McGonagall pulled me out of the stadium, the dragon called me a 'Dragonlord', whatever that is."

Hermione bit her lip, "I've never heard of a 'Dragon Lord'," she admitted, "but maybe I can find something in the library about it. It could explain how you spoke to the dragon."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "and I could try asking Charlie. You know, to see if he's ever heard about someone talking to dragons before…"

Harry smiled at his friends' eagerness to help him. "Thanks," he said gratefully, straightening his spine. "I could try Hagrid too. He loves dragons so much, he might actually know something that could help us."

"Don't worry Harry," Hermione said firmly. "I'm sure we'll be able to find some answers."

* * *

But they didn't. Harry and Ron talked to Hagrid and Charlie but even the dragon enthusiasts said that talking to dragons was impossible. Hermione scoured the whole library and arrived at the same conclusion. In addition, she was only able to find vague references to ancient curses that could have _Confundus_ like effects on such a large scale. The teenagers just couldn't figure out how anything like that could have been used during the Task when they couldn't even find a solid reference to a curse.

Eventually they had to give up, as there were no new leads and the events at Hogwarts were quickly sweeping them away. The upcoming ball had the whole school fraught with excitement, and in Harry's case, nausea. But Harry didn't put the matter out of his mind completely. He couldn't. It was like a nagging presence in his brain that tugged when he least expected it, as if something was calling him.

It wasn't until late one evening, just a week before the end of term, that the call came stronger than before.

"Harry. Harry Potter. Harry…" a deep voice called, echoing and ominous in his mind.

Startled out of a deep sleep, Harry sat up, ears straining to locate the voice. It wasn't in the dormitory, as the only bodies there belonged to his slumbering friends. Unable to fall back asleep with the voice still calling, the teenager crawled from the warm sheets and shivered as his feet touched the icy floor.

With his Invisibility Cloak in hand, Harry tiptoed out of Gryffindor Tower, following the echoing calls of the voice. As he went down the staircases, the voice got louder so the young wizard followed it, knowing that this was probably a bad idea but feeling the creeping sense of curiosity as it urged him forward.

The voice led him to the ground floor and out to the grounds. Harry was shivering in the winter air, snow caking to his boots and dampening the edges of his cloak. As the call echoed louder, Harry crossed the boundary of the Forbidden Forest. He felt his wand press against the palm of his hand as it lit the way and a shudder ran down his spine that wasn't from the cold.

Snow crunched under his feet and all he could see in the stillness was his own cloudy breath. The voice nearly shook his head with its volume as he crossed a fallen tree to find himself in an open clearing. But he wasn't alone.

In the center stood a gigantic dragon, its legs thicker than Hagrid and its entire body filling up the large space. Harry's breath caught and his knees quivered. Even if he had talked to one dragon recently, he hadn't quite expected to be in front of another dragon quite so soon. Especially one as large and menacing looking as this one.

"Greetings, young warlock," the dragon said, its razor sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "Thank you for coming when I called."

"Th-that was you?" Harry stuttered when he found his tongue again, heavier than he could remember it being.

"Yes," he said. Harry wasn't sure how he could tell the dragon was male but he just went with it anyway. The dragon's head lowered until a beady dark eye was staring straight at the wizard. "You are a curiosity, as Lirrhena said."

"Lirrhena?" Harry repeated, still in too much shock to respond intelligently.

"The young female you met some weeks ago," the dragon clarified, although he really shouldn't have had to. Really, how many dragons had Harry met recently?

"Oh, right," Harry agreed. "Er, just before I left, she called me a Dragonlord. What does that mean?"

The dragon smirked and leaned forward. "It means you are one of a kind, Harry Potter. The Dragonlords were humans that could speak with dragons of long ago," the dragon said. "They were a noble people and shared a deep bond with my kind." The dragon let out a sigh of smoke and Harry coughed, getting a mouthful of ash. "It has been centuries since the last of the Dragonlords died…." Here, his beady eye locked with the wizard's. "…or so we thought."

"You mean," Harry stammered, "… you mean, you think that _I'm_ one of these-these Dragonlords?" His expression was a mask of incredulity. "How is that possible?"

"I'm afraid I do not know, young warlock. The secrets of the Dragonlords died long ago," the dragon said regretfully. "Those secrets were shared between the Dragonlords and the Great Dragons."

Harry looked hopelessly up at the dragon. "What d'you mean? What are the 'Great Dragons'," he asked.

"A Great Dragon is a kind of dragon more powerful and more ancient than either of us could imagine. They were beings of pure magic, said to have been immortal and so powerful that they could cast spells and weave enchantments over entire cities," the dragon explained.

"What happened to them?" Harry asked quietly, when the dragon's voice trailed off in sadness.

"They perished," the dragon said. "They were hunted near to extinction, as the legend goes, until only a few remained. They were isolated and alone, not daring to leave the untamed lands they had claimed for fear that the humans would find them. When the forests shrunk and disappeared, the Great Dragons were lost, one by one."

His voice trailed off, heavy with the horror and grief he felt. Harry's heart strained in his chest, beating furiously and aching for the great beasts he was just beginning to understand.

"They are no more," the dragon spoke, breaking the thick silence. "All except a lone dragon egg that is rumored to be the last of the Great Dragons." The dragon eyed Harry just then and the wizard felt the hopes and dreams of an entire species weigh down on him at once. It felt as if a gigantic anvil had crashed onto his straining shoulders. "Our lore says that the egg of a Great Dragon can only be awakened by a Dragonlord and as the egg began to fade, we lost hope. But now that you have appeared, perhaps all is not lost. Perhaps _you_ can help this dragon hatch and return the Great Dragons to the world!"

Oh Merlin. Harry gulped, his throat unbearably dry. "Er, I'd be happy to help," he said, his voice cracking, "but how exactly do I help the egg hatch?"

"That is where I cannot help, Dragonlord," the dragon said in his echo-y voice. "That is one of the many secrets kept between a Great Dragon and a Dragonlord."

"Of course," Harry muttered. He ran his hands through his hair, leaving it looking like a porcupine's backside.

He really wanted to help, he really did. But how was he, a fourteen-year-old wizard, supposed to figure out how to hatch an egg of a basically extinct species of dragon that no human had heard of in five hundred years?

"I understand the burden you must bear, young Dragonlord," the dragon said wisely, "but you are our only hope. I will aid you in your quest and keep the egg safe until such time that you have the answers you seek."

"Thank you," Harry returned gratefully. "I will try and find the answer. There has to be something, somewhere."

"You are welcome. But please, find the answer quickly. If it is not hatched by the summer solstice, our elders believe that the egg will die."

Another anvil fell onto Harry's shoulders and he had no choice but to nod. A time limit for an impossible task. Perfect. "I'll get right on it," Harry promised.

"Very well," the dragon said, stretching his wings to their gigantic length. "I will take my leave. If you need to contact me, young Dragonlord, just Call for me. My name is Yraaahhgill."

"Er, right. Thanks," Harry said, a little unsure as to how Yraaahhgill was supposed to hear him but went with it anyway. Maybe he had brilliant hearing? "I will."

With that, the dragon lifted off the ground, his wings beating a heavy gust of wind that blew dirt and leaves into Harry's face. He covered it with one arm until the deluge stopped, only to find the dragon soaring away into the distance, as tiny as a snitch on the horizon.

Yawning, the wizard stumbled off into the undergrowth, hoping that he remembered his way back to the castle. Fine thing it would be to get himself lost in the Forbidden Forest after having an hour long conversation with a dragon.

* * *

**A/N**: I've been working on this piece for a few weeks, churning out words as inspiration hits. Please don't feel that I've abandoned IOTaDoB, because I haven't! I'm simply funneling some extra muse into this as well. I hope you all enjoy it! Please review and tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2, An Unexpected Journey

**The Last Dragonlord**

Chapter Two: An Unexpected Journey

Harry, fortunately for him, was able to make his way back into the castle and up to the Gryffindor Common Room without incident or getting caught. Unfortunately, his task to hatch the dragon egg was not as successful. There were no references in the library to the Great Dragons or any special breed that supposedly died out a long time ago. The only things he could find about egg-hatching were all from books written in the twentieth century—clearly not what he was looking for. And Harry still couldn't find any references to Dragonlords anywhere.

Throwing another book exasperatedly onto the table, Harry groaned and flopped back in his chair. The lonely echoes of the library engulfed him. Normally Ron and Hermione would be there with him, sleuthing out the mysteries of yet another puzzle but they were still being huffy with each other over the Yule Ball incident and weren't speaking, yet again.

Hermione was studying with Viktor somewhere in the stacks and Ron refused to step foot into the library, just in case he ran into 'Vicky'. Harry sighed. Viktor had offered to let him study with them, but considering that he didn't know the Quidditch player that well, Harry had declined. He wasn't exactly studying for a class assignment. He also wasn't keen to hear Hermione's nagging on why he wasn't preparing for the Second Task.

He hadn't exactly been completely open with his friends about his secret meeting with a dragon and his duty as a Dragonlord. After finding nothing on Dragonlords, his friends were starting to look at him like he was a nutter. Harry snorted. It wasn't like he could call a dragon to Hogwarts just to prove that he wasn't going mad.

And after searching for two weeks with no answers, the wizard was ready to tear his hair out in frustration. He stared gloomily at the completely unhelpful texts and decided to take a break. Maybe fresh air would help.

The castle was quiet in the early evening, students either in their dormitories or snugged up in broom cupboards with their sweethearts. Harry's footsteps echoed in the empty hallways and he felt a nagging sensation creep over him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up and he almost felt like he was being followed, when no one was actually there.

Nevertheless, Harry traced a path out to the grounds, flopping down onto a patch of ground he helpfully cleared of snow and dampness. "I love magic," he muttered absently as he looked up at the stars from his warm and dry cocoon. The massive sky opened up in a brilliant arc of blacks and blues, bright lights twinkling from their spots in the heavens. The chilly wind whistled through the trees and owls hooted in the night.

Harry lay there for ages, not really noticing the passage of time. His mind kept wandering off to think about the dragons and that dragon egg that he was supposed to hatch. The responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders and Harry was used to carrying heavy burdens. Just not of this sort.

_I wish…_ Harry thought hopelessly. _I just wish there was another Dragonlord or Great Dragon around. I wish someone could tell me how to help the dragon egg hatch!_ The teenager closed his weary eyes, aching from exhaustion, and missed the bright fire of a falling star shoot across the sky. And in that moment, Harry's world shifted.

* * *

Waking up in a forest should have been a clue. A big clue. A clue the size of the United Kingdom falling on his stupid, thick head.

To his credit, Harry was disoriented and felt like he'd been hit with a _Confundus_ when he first opened his eyes. He lay flat on his back, something poking painfully into his flesh, staring up at the thickly leaved tree tops. A gentle breeze, warm for winter, was floating across his face and the hairs on the back of his neck were telling him that something was not quite right.

Stumbling to his feet, Harry teetered off balance and found himself unable to walk straight. He tripped and clung to the tree he fell into, blinking to try and help the world right itself once more.

"Wha-a…?" he murmured, his tongue thick.

It was then that he heard a loud thundering noise come from somewhere near him. Harry turned hastily and found that a bad idea, as he had to grasp again at the tree to keep from falling on his face. The noise was growing louder and his heart pounded with it. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he held it out unsteadily, hoping that any enemies that happened upon him were either really stupid or really slow. Even better if they were both.

With a loud clatter, several men on horses charged through the trees and Harry's jaw and wand dropped at the sight of them. They looked like characters out of the telly with their bright red cloaks and gleaming armor. The horses ran powerfully through the dense forest but Harry felt like time slowed down as he gazed at them.

Blinking thoroughly, Harry watched them ride off in splendor. He half expected it all to be a very vivid and Weasley-Wheezes-induced dream, but before he could pinch himself and wake up, the horses and riders returned.

There were six young men on horses, but only five of them were dressed identically. They all had the cloaks, armor, and—now that he looked closely—swords. The last man was younger than the rest and wore more normal clothing, although it looked well-used and dirty.

The rasp of metal against leather could be heard several times over as the cloaked men drew their swords. They held them up, two men dismounting and coming near him on foot.

Harry gazed dumbly at the loonies who were sticking their sharp, pointy swords at him. The one on the right had a serious face covered in curly brown hair, right from his head to his moustache and chin. The other was dark-skinned and had a nearly shaved head, but was shorter than the first.

"Put down your weapon, sorcerer, and surrender peacefully," the blond man spoke. He carried himself differently than the others and had stern blue eyes that bore into Harry's green.

"What?" Harry mumbled, tongue still thick in his mouth and his head spinning madly.

"Release your weapon," the blond man repeated, his voice edged with more ice than before, "or we will disarm you by force."

"I'm-I'm," Harry murmured confusedly, putting his left hand to his throbbing head. "I'm-not a sor-sorcerer." His legs wobbled beneath him and his knees gave way. Sliding down the back of the tree, Harry wished the world would stop spinning, long enough for him to finish correcting the men.

"Sire, I think he's wounded," the curly-haired man said as Harry's hand moved to show blood on the palm.

"Elyan, take that stick from his hand. I don't want to take any chances," Arthur ordered, his eyes intent on the boy. "Merlin, take a look at him."

"Yes Sire," they both said, Merlin dismounting while Elyan tucked the polished and nearly foot-long piece of wood into his belt.

The stick looked like more than just something the boy had picked up from the ground, as it was obviously finely crafted and even had a handle for proper gripping. The knight hoped that the addled youth had only found it and wasn't a practitioner of magic. Elyan was just thankful that Arthur was now king—Uther would have murdered this boy instantly, just like he had murdered Elyan's father.

Merlin deftly kneeled next to the boy and probed at his wound. The lad hissed as he prodded a particularly large knot. He also had a gash that explained the blood and it was still oozing as head wounds were wont to do. Carefully, Merlin took a clean cloth and some water to get the worst of the dirt out of the wound and bandage it to stem the bleeding. Gazing into the boy's eyes he saw them unfocused and confused.

"I think he'll be okay but he's received a nasty blow to the head. He should see Gaius," Merlin said.

Arthur nodded severely. "Tie his hands together with some rope and he can ride with Gwaine. Let's get back to Camelot," he decided.

His knights and Merlin obeyed, dragging the nearly unconscious boy to Gwaine's horse and binding his feebly resisting wrists. Merlin bit his lip and his brow furrowed. With Morgana about and Agravaine possibly helping her, he had to be more wary than usual about strange sorcerers about. His heart, though, didn't want to believe the worst of the boy until he saw proof. Merlin resolved to keep an eye out, for either way, this boy's appearance in Camelot could be important.

* * *

He must have lost consciousness at one point because the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a large room. An old man was bustling about in a brown robe with his back to Harry.

The young wizard sat up, his back and head aching faintly. Groping slowly, he felt for his glasses and found them folded next to his cot. Harry slipped them on and blinked as everything came into sharp focus. The room was messy and cluttered with all sorts of things. Herbs, bright coloured potions and books were strewn over several roughly hewn tables and chairs. Despite the clutter, Harry could see that the room was kept clean, from the swept floor to the cobweb-free rafters.

"Ah, you're awake!" the old man said in a booming voice that was surprising for his age as he moved to stand next to his patient.

With sure hands, he grasped Harry's face and examined his eyes and head wound. Harry felt strange letting a stranger touch him like that but the man was quick and efficient.

"The wound is healing well and no sign of infection," the man said absently as he released Harry's head. "You should make a full recovery."

"Er, thanks," Harry stuttered. "Who are you and where am I?"

"My name is Gaius," he answered, sitting down on a small stool. "And you are in Camelot."

Harry's eyes widened and he stared at the man, dumbfounded. "I… you're… please tell me you're joking."

"I assure you, I am not," Gaius said defensively and a tad suspiciously. "You were found injured in the Forest of Asitir and were brought back to the citadel for healing."

Harry was ready to label him as insane but the serious look on Gaius' face and the foreboding feeling in his stomach made him think twice. He vaguely remembered waking up in a forest and seeing some men in red cloaks point swords at him; that coupled with his current situation…

"How is this possible?" Harry murmured. At the man's inquiring look, he answered hesitantly. "The last I remember, I was at school and now you're telling me that I'm in Camelot of all places!"

Gaius was a bit taken aback at his patient's vehemence. "It is possible that you have lost some memory from your head injury," he hedged. "If you were taken unwillingly, I am sure that the king would be willing to assist your return home."

Harry nodded absently, his heart stopping at the word 'king'. He swallowed roughly. "Er, I don't suppose you could tell me who the king is, would you?"

The old man raised a grizzled, white eyebrow. "Arthur Pendragon, of course. You must be from far away if the news of his crowning has not yet reached your realm," he said.

"Yeah," the teenage wizard said faintly. "Really, _really_ far away." Harry felt like the blood had completely drained from his face and wondered if his brain had disconnected. Arthur Pendragon. King. Camelot. Knights. King Arthur Pendragon. Either he was having a very vivid hallucination or he had somehow traveled over a thousand years into the past. "Bloody brilliant," he muttered.

Gaius noticed the change in the boy's colour and frowned worriedly. There was something odd about this boy and, unfortunately, the king knew it as well. From his clothes to his way of speaking to the stick he carried when apprehended, the stranger had succeeded in being branded as a suspected sorcerer.

If it hadn't been for the physician, Arthur would have had the boy in the dungeons for the duration of his recovery. But with Merlin's assistance, Gaius had managed to convince the knights that the boy was too injured to run away and would be perfectly secure in Gaius' chambers.

Arthur, thankfully, accepted that excuse—probably because the boy had been unconscious for hours—and had left a guard at the door for when the boy recovered. It was that same guard that Gaius sent to call for the king while his charge sat in shock.

Harry swung his legs over the side of the cot, his sock-covered feet hitting the stone floor. Feeling oddly exposed in the strange room, he slipped on his trainers which had been left next to his bed. His shoes and wand were the only things that had been removed while he was unconscious, but while his shoes were easily located, his wand wasn't.

"I have informed the king that you are awake," Gaius said as he returned from the doorway. "You are the most excitement we've had in two weeks so I expect he shall be here soon... Are you looking for something?"

Harry turned to look at the older man. "Yeah, er... Have you seen my wa– I mean, the stick that I had in the forest? I thought I had it with me..."

Gaius' face fell. So the object did belong to the boy. That was grave news indeed. "I believe the King had it confiscated as a tool of sorcery."

"What?" Harry spluttered. "Why?"

"Magic is against the law in Camelot, as it has been for more than twenty years! Surely you know this?" said Gaius. His eyebrows rocketed up to his hair line.

Harry shook his head numbly, considerably past shock by now. "No magic in _Camelot_? What's going on?" he murmured. Camelot was supposed to be the home of Merlin—_the _Merlin—the man who founded the Wizarding World! How could magic possibly be outlawed here?

The young wizard jumped as the door opened forcefully and a blonde-haired man, that Harry vaguely recognised, walked in. His clothes were more normal–no red capes or armour–but a sword was buckled to his hip, which was enough of a reminder to Harry.

"You're awake, then," Arthur said sternly, towering over the teenager. "Who are you and what are your reasons for being in Camelot?"

Harry slowly stood, his head giving a weak throb and his knees knocked slightly. He thought furiously. "My name is Harry Potter," he started, "and I'm not really sure why I'm in Camelot. I was at school and then something must have happened because I woke up in your forest where you found me." A pregnant pause lit the room and, belatedly, he added a quick, "Your majesty," after the dark-haired man behind the king mouthed the words.

The teenager tried to act coolly, desperately hoping that the king wouldn't expose his cock-and-bull story for what it was. Arthur's brow was furrowed and he eyed Harry as if trying to discern the truth from his very essence.

"Your claims may have some truth in them, boy, but you were found with a polished stick that has been identified as a known tool for sorcery," Arthur questioned. "Is it yours?"

Harry thought hastily. "Er, no, not really," Harry lied. "I'm not sure where it came from, but I woke up in the forest and it was in my pocket."

"And how do you suppose it got there?" the king asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Look, I'm not a sorcerer, alright!" he said honestly, _I'm a wizard_, he added silently. "I don't know what happened, or how that stick got into my pocket, but I'm not what you think I am. I'm just a really, really lost teenager."

Something in his earnest tone must have rung true to the king, or he was a better liar than he thought, because the man relaxed slightly and his eyes had a shade more warmth than before.

"Do you believe that you were attacked and abducted?" The king asked.

"I dunno," Harry said. "I don't remember seeing anybody but everything in the last few days has been a blur," he lied fluidly.

"Very well," Arthur said. "Do you plan to return home?"

Harry blanched, not sure how he could even do that. "I want to, but I don't know how to get there from Camelot," he said honestly.

"Which kingdom are you from?" Arthur asked.

"Er, it's not really a kingdom," Harry hedged, "It's in Scotland. Hogwarts?"

"I have not heard of this 'Hog-warts'," Arthur repeated slowly, his tongue rolling over the unfamiliar word. "And where is this Scotland?"

"In the north," Harry answered, "I think."

"Your injury," Gaius spoke up for the first time, "may have been caused by your kidnappers. You would have been unconscious for some time."

"Then perhaps you come from a land beyond the five kingdoms," Arthur reasoned. "If you choose to stay in Camelot, you may."

Harry nodded. "Thank you," he said. "Your majesty."

Arthur nodded and turned on his heel, leaving the room. The soldiers left with him but the dark-haired man that had helped Harry earlier stayed behind.

"Hello," the man said in a rougher accent than the king, "Harry Potter, was it? I'm Merlin."

Harry, halfway through shaking hands, choked. "_Merlin_?" he croaked, feeling faint.

"Yeah," Merlin—_the _Merlin, greatest-wizard-of-_all-_time Merlin—said, his smile dropping a fraction. "Is something wrong?"

"B-but you're so _young_!" Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Er, thanks?" Merlin returned uncertainly, stepping back from the teenager. "Well, uh, I should probably get back. Er, nice meeting you... Harry..."

Before he could blink, Merlin had vanished out the door. The young wizard felt faint and vaguely sick.

A book slammed down on a table behind him and he turned to find Gaius working unconcernedly on some potion.

"Right," Harry said, suddenly feeling the need to escape. "Er, thanks for your help. I'm just going to go..."

Gaius looked at the boy over his glasses and nodded. "Good day," he said dismissively.

Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself, and darted out of the room. If he had looked back, he would have seen the old physician staring at his back pensively.

* * *

It wasn't long after Harry had made his way down to the market that he realised that he was in major trouble. He was stranded in the Middle Ages, without money, food or his wand and had no way of getting back to Hogwarts, 1995. He'd managed to get his wand confiscated and placed in the vaults below Camelot—according to a guard, who'd mentioned it to another bloke as Harry left the castle—and now Merlin thought he was a nutter and would probably never speak to him again!

Harry chortled hysterically as he heard himself think that. Merlin, of all people!

The trouble was he was in some sort of time before Merlin was _the Merlin_ and before magic was even legal. Chances were likely that the magical world didn't even exist yet, meaning that Hogwarts wouldn't be built for another 100 or 200 years! The only person that could possibly help him was Merlin and after thoroughly mucking up their introductions, Harry was going to have to work doubly hard to get his help.

But first, Harry needed to find some food and a place to sleep for the night. Unfortunately, he had no money to get either and no one to point him in the right direction. If he didn't want to beg, he'd have to try and find work.

As he walked through the town, he asked around at various stalls and shops if he could get a job with them, but most ignored, scoffed or refused him. It probably had something to do with the fact that Harry looked like a stranger and these people were too poor and hungry to care much for an odd boy. But Harry didn't realise this.

The sun began to set and Harry's hopes of getting enough money or finding a place to stay for the night grew dimmer by the minute. Looking dejectedly down at his now dusty trainers, he wondered how sleeping on the ground would feel ... and ended up careening into a young woman walking in the opposite direction

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Harry exclaimed, crouching down to help her gather the vegetables that had fallen out of her basket.

"No, that's alright, it was my fault!" the woman said kindly, picking up the last item, a head of lettuce. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"I wasn't either," Harry admitted sheepishly. His left arm full of produce, he held out a hand to help her up, as she seemed overloaded with items. "Here."

"Thank you," she said after a pause, smiling prettily at him through her dark, curly hair. "I haven't seen you around before. Are you new to Camelot?"

"Er, yeah," Harry said with a weak grin. "I'm Harry Potter." He held out his hand belatedly to shake hers.

"Gwen," she offered, awkwardly shaking his hand. After a pause, she noticed the darkening sky and remembered that she'd been on her way home. "Well, it was nice to meet you, but it's getting late, and I should be heading home..."

"Oh, right!" Harry exclaimed with a blush. "Sorry!"

She smiled at him and he slowly handed her the produce as she tucked it away in her basket. But as her stubborn head of lettuce refused to sit properly on the small mound of vegetables, preferring to fall to the ground, Harry spoke up again.

"Why don't I just help you get these home?" he offered, holding up the troublesome items.

Gwen smiled and awkwardly agreed. "Thanks Harry."

Turning, he followed her back down the street he came from and then turned to a parallel street. Finally ending up in front of a small but modest wooden house attached to a shop of some kind, Gwen went to thank him. She set down the basket and he handed her the last of her vegetables.

"It was nice meeting you," Harry said with a smile before stepping back.

"You too," Gwen returned, still holding that uncooperative head of lettuce. "And thanks for the help!"

"Not a problem," Harry said. He spun on his heel and walked off into the darkness, his hands in his pockets, still with no idea about what he was going to do that night.

"Wait!" Gwen's voice called out to him from behind, her footsteps following. "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but you don't look like you know where you're going. Do you have somewhere to stay for the night?"

Gwen had no idea why she was doing this, asking a perfect stranger–a boy, nonetheless–where he was sleeping! But something about his eyes when he had turned to leave... he just looked so lost and scared. It reminded her of the fear that permeated Camelot when the Dorocha came to call just a few months ago. And that sent a chill down her spine in remembrance of that awful week.

"Er, no, actually," Harry admitted, a blush furiously staining his pale cheeks. "I was just going to find a corner to curl up or something..."

"You shouldn't sleep outside!" Gwen blurted out before she could help it. She had no idea why she was offering help to a strange boy, but here she was. "It's not much, but I've at least got a floor you can sleep on for the night."

The teenager paused uncertainly. "Are you sure?" Harry asked, picking at his sleeves as she started to lead him back to her house. "I really wouldn't want to impose–"

Gwen's nervousness softened at that. "It's alright, Harry," she said, opening the door. She tucked her basket into a corner on the side and immediately struck a light for a few candles. Once the house was lit, she started unpacking her basket.

Harry had shut the door and stood awkwardly in the small house for a moment. "Er, can I help you with that?" he asked, wanting to make himself a little bit more useful as Gwen was offering him a place to stay for the night.

Gwen was lighting a small fire in the hearth to cook dinner and looked up at him with a smile. "Do you know how to cook?" she asked, shaking out the small flame of fire on her match.

"Well, a bit," Harry said with a shrug. "I could cut up the vegetables for you or something?"

"Sure," Gwen agreed, knowing it would be faster if he helped. Also, she was tired after a full day at the castle. Even though Uther had died and Arthur was more than willing to give her a reason not to work, Gwen refused to just wander around the palace aimlessly. It wasn't how she wanted to live her life.

Harry stood next to her and she gave him a spare knife for cutting up the carrots and potatoes. The young boy handled it well, showing experience as he skinned the potatoes and carrots. He chopped them up into small pieces and set them aside. Gwen had sliced the onion and a small piece of beef she'd gotten from the butcher. Tossing the vegetables into her pot of boiling water, Gwen added salt and stirred.

"You know," Harry spoke up hesitantly, "if you add garlic, a few bay leaves and a pinch of ground cloves, you can make the stew taste really good."

"You must know more than a bit of cooking then," Gwen said, straightening up. She wiped her hands off on her apron and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. "And what is garlic, may I ask?"

"Er, well," Harry stammered, "It's a sort of bulb thing that tastes great with just about everything...I've cooked with it, back at home."

"And where do you come from?" Gwen asked, sitting down at the table with him.

"Up north, I think," Harry said, deciding to stick to the story he'd given Arthur to make it easier to remember. "The King and his men found me in the forest a few days back. I'm not sure how I got here but I was hurt, so I think someone attacked and kidnapped me."

"Oh no!" Gwen exclaimed, a worried look adorning her face. "Do you know who did it?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "Last I remember, I was at school and now I'm here."

"Sk-ool?" Gwen stumbled over the unfamiliar word. "What is a sk-ool?"

"Er, well, it's a school," Harry explained nervously. "You know, a place where you go to learn how to read and do maths..."

"Oh, a monastery?" Gwen caught on quickly. She raised an eyebrow, looking him over. "Were you studying to be a priest?" she said it more like a statement.

"No," Harry said quickly, a tad horrified at the thought of running a church.

"Oh," Gwen said softly. "Your family must be looking for you, then."

Harry laughed hollowly. "Probably not," he said. At her questioning look, he added, "I live with my aunt and uncle and they don't like me much. They're probably going to throw a party when the headmaster tells them I'm missing."

Gwen shook her head sadly, not sure what to say. Getting up, she went to stir the stew, a silence settling between them. "They don't know what they're missing, then," she said at last, giving him a confident and pretty smile.

Harry had to return her grin and inclined his head. Gwen added the meat to the stew and replaced the lid.

"It should only be a little while longer," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Why don't I show you where you can sleep?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, standing up and following her to the back of the house. "Thank you again, so much. I really appreciate it."

Gwen went around a curtain that had been placed to section off the large space into two spaces. One held a bed, obviously Gwen's, and the next held a dirt floor with a small pile of grain bags.

"It's not much," Gwen said hurriedly at Harry's elbow, a blush staining her cheeks, "but it's better than sleeping out in the cold." She had disappeared briefly, only to return with an armful of blankets. "You can use these to make it a little more comfortable."

Harry accepted the blankets and smiled reassuringly at her. "Thanks Gwen."

She nodded and turned to go back to the kitchen while Harry held back a sigh and began to lay out the blankets. It wasn't luxurious, by any means—his room at the Dursleys had a bed at least—but it was better than nothing. And Gwen was much nicer than his relatives anyway; that gave her extra points.

Still, he'd have to find work or something tomorrow because he couldn't live off the generosity of strangers for the rest of his stay. Perhaps he could ask Gwen where he might locate employment in the morning. With new resolve, Harry sorted out his bedding and managed to make a roughly comfortable-looking arrangement.

Going back to the kitchen, he helped Gwen set out plates for the stew and gather utensils. She had him pour a thick, faintly-alcoholic beverage called mead into two mugs. Finally, the dinner was ready and they both sat down to eat. Harry shoveled spoonfuls of the good, hot food into his mouth, not caring if his tongue was slightly burned. It had been ages since his last full meal and he was hungry enough to eat a horse.

Gwen took more measured bites, eyeing her guest through her eyelashes. He was an odd one, that was certain. The boy talked like he came from wealth, and his clothes and the fact that he was still studying at his age supported that. And yet, he didn't _act_ like a noble. He hadn't even blinked when she showed him where he could sleep and he'd helped her cook. He'd even made suggestions! A noble who acted like a commoner... definitely an odd stranger, indeed.

But it did beg the question, if he was a noble, why was he wandering around the city and looking to sleep outside? Surely Arthur would have given him a room up at the castle?

As she finished the last of her meal, Gwen decided that she'd have to keep an eye on Harry. She picked up the dishes to wash them in the back and was thrown off guard when Harry took half of them to help her. She blinked confusedly at his back as he started washing the spoons with water. Gwen knew that she'd definitely be talking to Merlin in the morning.

* * *

Harry moaned groggily as a piercing beam of light hit his eyes. He tried covering his face with a stubborn arm, but the sound of movement from another part of the room and the ache of his back roused him. Blinking blearily, the teenager sat up and took stock of the unfamiliar building. It took him a few moments before it all came flooding back.

Appearing in Camelot. Losing his wand. Meeting King Arthur. Gwen giving him a place for the night. Merlin.

Scrambling out of his blankets, Harry cleaned up his 'bed' and went to the main room, where Gwen was puttering around.

"Morning," Harry offered, yawning a little. The sun was just rising and the teenager didn't really enjoy waking up with it.

"Good morning," Gwen said brightly. "How did you sleep?"

"Alright," Harry said with a shrug and a smile. It had been a little rough but at least he'd slept. "How about you?"

"Quite well, thanks," she returned, setting a chunk of bread and a small block of cheese on the table. "Why don't you help yourself to some breakfast? I'll be back in a moment."

Harry nodded, sitting down at the table. He tore off a piece of the bread and sliced the cheese with an available knife. Chewing slowly, he had to work at the bread before it softened a little. The cheese was a little strong but the food was good and welcome to his empty stomach. And speaking of empty body parts...

When Gwen returned, Harry tried to avoid blushing as he asked what probably sounded like a stupid question. "Sorry, but where can I, you know..." Harry trailed off, stammering in his embarrassment.

Gwen blushed furiously and pointed towards the back of the house. "The privy's back there," she added, avoiding his eyes.

Harry thanked her and gratefully fled the room, his ears bright red. It took him a moment when he was back there to realise that the "privy" was a small lidded bucket. Grimacing, Harry gingerly lifted the lid and did his business as quickly as possible. As he walked away from what counted as medieval plumbing, Harry hoped that he would be able to get back to Hogwarts soon, if only for toilets and proper facilities again!

Awkward moments aside, Harry returned to the kitchen as Gwen finished her meal and threw a shawl over her shoulders. By unspoken and mutual agreement, they walked outside and loitered by the door as Gwen locked up.

"Er," the teenager started, hands in the pockets of his now-filthy robe. "Thanks again, Gwen, for letting me stay the night."

The young woman smiled and nodded. "You're welcome. And good luck to you."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. " Yeah…er, Gwen? I don't suppose you know anyone that's got a job opening?" he asked.

She bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure if she's filled the position, but Mary in the citadel's kitchens was looking for an extra pair of hands. You could try there?" she suggested.

Harry grinned. "Thanks Gwen, I appreciate it." With a final wave, he hurried off to the castle.

The streets were already well used at the early hour and the young wizard found himself dodging wagons, people and the occasional dog. As he neared the largest building in Camelot, the crowds thinned and the people had a lot less dirt on their faces. Harry asked the guards for directions to the kitchens and found himself pointed to a large, hot room in the belly of the castle.

The room was noisier than the peaceful courtyard outside, but the commotion was muted as liveried servants disappeared with their platters into the castle. A large, red-cheeked woman with scraggly brown hair was scolding a young man as he retreated with a platter of his own. Harry noticed that the jacket looked strangely familiar.

Before he could put a name to the person, the woman turned her bark to him. "Who are ye an' whaddya wan'?"

"My name's Harry," he said quickly, "and I was told that you had a job available?"

Mary shook her head and looked slightly apologetic. "Ah, sorry lad," she said. "I found me a boy yes'erday. Good luck to you."

"Yeah, er, thanks," Harry said, his heart falling. Turning around, he despaired of finding work when one of the cook's assistants stopped him.

"If yer lookin' fer a job," the pimple-faced, gangly youth said, "I heard tha' they're lookin' fer sum'un down at th' stables."

Harry brightened. "Brilliant, thanks mate!" he said as he scurried off, not wanting to miss his chance at the job.

If he had stayed behind, he would've heard the other boy snort and say, "Don' thank me yet."

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, folks! I've been steadily adding to this in my free moments as inspiration hits and I think I've gotten quite far! This fic is certainly running away from my expectations of it!

Thank you everyone who has reviewed, favorite-d and alerted this fic! It means a lot to me to hear from people that like it!

On this and other fanfic fronts, I will be updating as I can, but school is officially starting for me in another week. Things will become crazy again! Also, my laptop died its last death just a couple of weeks ago. I was thankfully able to recover most of my information from my hard drive, but I'm still without a laptop for the next six months. I have a tablet right now for most of my writing, but unfortunately Apple will not let me upload documents directly from it to . This means that I will only be able to update when I can get to an actual computer or laptop. I will, however, do my best to produce chapters as often as I can!

Again, please review and tell me what you think! :D Thanks!


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